i found this to be cute even if old

Inspection Teams....

      Have you noticed anything fishy about the inspection
      teams who have arrived in Iraq? They're all men!

      How in the name of the United Nations does anyone
      expect men to find Saddam's stash? We all know that
  men have a blind spot when it comes to finding
      things.

      For crying' out loud! Men can't find the dirty
      clothes hamper. Men can't find the jar of jelly
      until it falls out of the cupboard and splatters on
      the floor.... and these are the people we have sent
      into Iraq to search for hidden weapons of mass
      destruction?

      I keep wondering why groups of mothers weren't
      sent in. Mothers can sniff out secrets quicker than a
      drug dog can find a gram of dope. Mothers can find gin
      bottles that dads have stashed in the attic beneath
      the rafters. They can sniff out a diary two rooms and
      one floor away. They can tell when the lid of a cookie
  jar has been disturbed and notice when a quarter
      inch slice has been shaved off a chocolate cake. A
      mother can smell alcohol on your breath before you get
      your key in the front door and can smell cigarette
      smoke from a block away.

      By examining laundry, a mother knows more about
      their kids than Sherlock Holmes. And if a mother
      wants an answer to question, she can read an
      offender's
     eyes quicker than a homicide detective.

      So... considering the value a mother could bring
      to an inspection team, why are we sending a bunch of
  old men who will rely on electronic equipment to
      scout out hidden threats?

      My mother would walk in with a wooden soup spoon
      in one hand, grab Saddam by the ear, give it a good
  twist and snap, "Young man, do you have any weapons of
      mass destruction?" And God help him if he tried to
      lie to her. She'd march him down the street to some
      secret bunker and shove his nose into a nuclear bomb
      and say, "Uh, huh, and what do you call this,
      mister?" Whap! Thump! Whap! Whap!
      Whap! And she'd lay some stripes across his bare
      bottom with that soup spoon, then march him home in
      front of the whole of Baghdad. He'd not only
      come clean and apologize for lying about it, he'd
      cut every lawn in Baghdad for free for the whole darn
      summer.

      Inspectors my butt... You want the job done? Call
      my mother.